


Come On Over, Valerie

by GraarPlacemat



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Restaurant, Canon Universe, Cowboys & Cowgirls, F/F, Femslash February, Niner AU, Period Typical Attitudes, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-01
Updated: 2015-02-23
Packaged: 2018-03-10 01:06:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 9,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3271076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GraarPlacemat/pseuds/GraarPlacemat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of RvB-related femslash oneshots for every day of the month of February. Various pairings, various settings, but all about ladies falling in love with other ladies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Kimbalina - Narrow Shoulders

**Author's Note:**

> Heya!!! I decided to issue myself a personal challenge this February, and that is to write a femslash oneshot/drabble for every day of this month. Wish me luck!!!  
> The prompt this time is as follows; "Congratulations, you made it. You're a part of the team now." This is from Tumblr user Texelations's Starlight Challenge, my entries into which will be contributing to this personal challenge all this month. For the prompt, I selected Kimbalina.  
> If you have an idea for a one-word or one-phrase prompt, or even just a pairing I could write, feel free to comment or head over to my own Tumblr(missplacemat) and drop me an ask!!  
> Title inspired by Amy Winehouse's song, Valerie.

Vanessa Kimball was smaller than Carolina had been expecting.

It was her own bad habit, she knew; when she pictured military women, she saw women like herself, or her mother, or even Agent South Dakota - women who had fought hard against the inbred gender bias of the military, and had become hard and belligerent and stubborn as a result. She thought of military women, and she thought of broad muscular shoulders and backs and legs because they had to be twice as good as any man in order to be worth anything at all. Even CT, she reflected, was stronger and bitchier and more secretive than the average person with whom Carolina was acquainted.

But Kimball was something new. She was _tiny_ , for one thing. Her shoulders were narrow, hardly seeming strong enough to support an entire military. She was bony, instead of muscular, and Carolina supposed it had something to do with how she’d repeatedly caught Kimball saving food from her plate and handing it off to beggars - children, particularly - in the bleak military streets of the New Republic.

That was the biggest part of it, Carolina realized. Not only was she small, but she was  _caring._  Motherly, even. The people of the New Republic were her children, all of them, and in turn she was their mother because so many of them had none to call their own.

How could such narrow shoulders hold up under all that pressure?

* * *

 

“Mind if I join you for your run?” came the words, and automatically Carolina was tempted to fuss.

“If you can keep up, sure,” she said, instead of asking outright if Kimball would have the energy. Carolina, she was not afraid to admit, ate like an athlete, and observing Kimball’s eating habits for herself had made her unsure of whether the woman was truly up to the typical training regimen of the New Republic - or any army, for that matter.

But once they both had donned their running shoes and set off, Carolina found that the two of them were, surprisingly enough, approximately equal in speed and endurance. Seven miles in, a lengthy warm-up by any standards, Kimball was only sweating about the same amount as Carolina was, and if anything was breathing lighter.

Carolina was ecstatic.

As they approached the officer’s training deck, it was more than mere runner’s high plastering the grin on Carolina’s face, and Kimball noticed. “Good run, soldier?” she inquired, raising an eyebrow, as they headed for the lockers to don their undersuits and armor.

“I’ve never had a running partner who could keep up that long before,” Carolina admitted, lifting her bangs to let cool air caress her hot forehead. “They’d always end up begging me to slow down, and I’d have to run alone.”

“Me, too,” Kimball agreed, “I ran even before the revolution, you know. It relaxes me.” She lifted her own short sheet of hair from her neck, and Carolina found her eyes tracing that line formed by her spine. She was so  _small_ , she found herself thinking once more.

“I was worried, because you really don’t eat much,” she confessed.

“I take what rations they issue me,” Kimball said plainly, “And I stop eating when I’m satisfied. I can’t spend my life only thinking of myself, anymore. I forfeited that right when I ascended.” She gazed into her companion’s eyes intently. “Do you understand, Carolina?”

Carolina considered this for a moment.

“Not yet,” she said, “But I think I’m getting there.”

* * *

There was a certain something about the people of the New Republic that Carolina hadn’t seen in such high concentrations anywhere else. It was all over the place, anywhere she looked, like a contagion.

Integrity, she decided. These people had integrity.

It was the kind born not of a vision, and not of pure honesty, and not any of those other definitions people tried to assign the word. It was the kind of integrity that came about when a person had no other choice - a belief born for the sake of being able to believe in  _something,_  and a dedication to that belief unmatched by any other.

It occurred to her one evening, after overseeing negotiations between representatives of the New Republic and the Feds, that she used to do battle with people just like this. Were not the Insurrectionists a band battling corruption in the UNSC? Were they not fighting for their own right to believe? She thought back to those days, when she’d been so certain that what she was doing was right, only because it might just get her what she wanted. Selflessness had been a foreign concept, and her father had made sure it remained that way.

Selflessness was a noble thing. She decided that as she was dressing herself for bed; selflessness was noble, but only so long as it didn’t lead to one’s own detriment.

* * *

The next morning in the officer’s mess hall, Carolina made sure to sit next to Kimball. When the woman began to slow down in her consumption of her breakfast, she pushed her own plate, with her own leftovers, into Kimball’s line of vision.

“It won’t be doing any good for the New Republic if you drop dead from hunger,” she explained at Kimball’s look of confusion, “If you won’t finish your own, at least take mine.”

The confusion melted into something else that made Carolina want to fetch her helmet, turn on the cam, and record this moment for when she was old so that she could watch it over and over.

Kimball smiled kindly, perhaps even lovingly, at her, and she could have withheld just about anything else.

Perhaps none of us are as strong as the least likely survivor, she reflected.


	2. South/CT - Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dreams and reality don't always mix.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think it's a pretty big weakness of my writing that I tend to try and avoid vivid imagery for fear that my synaesthesia will muddle up the descriptions,,,, but I ended up writing this with actual synaesthetic imagery and really liked it,,, so I didn't change it from there... I hope this isn't totally weird ^^; (But suddenly I totally headcanon South as a synaesthete golly gosh give me more)  
> Southnecticut this time!!! ^u^

“South?” whispers her voice, sweet and sluggish and amber-colored translucent like honey. It’s lower, more grating than usual because Connie must have just woken up, herself. Was it South’s fault, again? Had she been thrashing in her sleep, again?

“Did you have a bad dream?” comes the voice again, this time accompanied by a hand carding through her hair. South smiles to herself. It doesn’t matter what the dream was about now. All that matters is Connie’s slight, birdlike body reclining next to her, rising in some places and falling in others like a landscape. She wasn’t great at saying it aloud, but these moments were secretly her favorite parts about their relationship.

“You’re crying,” the voice observes, and it’s too deep and throaty to be Connie; she realizes that now. It’s not Connie’s honey-colored voice, anymore - it’s heavier and darker and thicker, a river of something warm brown and bittersweet that she’d known all her life.

“Quit babying me, North,” she grumbles, pushing her brother away.

Dreams were the cruelest part of reality.


	3. Sister/Katie - Blushing Cheeks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please ignore my blushing cheeks, my ears are redder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's inspired by Julia Nunes's adorable song, Blushing Cheeks!!
> 
> Sister/Jensen this time. Do we have a ship name for this? Because my vote's on "Kaikatie".

The tour guide was the most attractive woman she’d ever seen.

_This is ridiculous_ , Katie told herself, forcing herself not to stare.  _I don’t even_ like _girls_. Never mind that one time she’d made out with her best friend the volleyball player, because that was a total coincidence and would  _never_ happen again,  _ever._

The tour guide told them that she was a sophomore and her name was Kaikaina. A sophomore? That meant she’d be a junior when Katie enrolled, right? They’d probably meet at orientation because Kaikaina would be helping there, too, of course, and when Katie got lost on her way to her first class Kaikaina would help her, and…

Dear god, Kaikaina was looking at her. Everyone else was, too, now that she thought about it.

“Oh! Uh, Math major, probably,” she answered the question.

“She asked your  _name_ ,” said her neighbor, raising her eyebrow.

Automatically, Katie felt warmth creeping up her neck, staining her cheeks - and her ears - and, hell, probably her entire face was red. This was met with laughter from the entire group as she nervously murmured the correct answer.

“Okay, guys, now that we’re introduced, we’d better get walking. We’ve got a lotta ground to cover!” Kaikaina announced, beginning to walk backwards ahead of the group.

Katie didn’t miss the wink Kaikaina dropped her before turning to look where she was going. 


	4. South/Grey - Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's hard to figure out what's real, and what's just part of you being ridiculous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did somebody say crackship?? No?? Whatever, let's get some of that in here anyway!!! Credit for this idea goes to churbooseanon this time. Basically, as she explained it, this is a canon-divergent AU where in South lives, joins Red Team, and ends up injured during Chorus arc and must be taken care of by one Emily Grey. I tossed in some more synaesthetic South because for some reason I just really like it.
> 
> As you might have guessed, this one's South/Grey!!!

Once upon a time, tiny little Dana Kovalevsky had eaten a re-constructed version of an old Earth candy that her father had explained to her was called Pop Rocks. The packaging had been the first thing to catch her attention - dark and plain, with sporadic bursts of color, and she’d goaded Daniel into trying it. She’d then watched as her brother shook out a few little clumps of candy into his mouth, only to turn tomato-red with shock a few short moments later, shaking his head and coughing a little to indicate his dislike of the sensation. She’d tried it afterward, just to be contrary, and liked it quite a bit.

Half a lifetime later, from their very first moments together, Emily Grey reminded her of that experience. Her voice alternated between smooth darkness and sudden snaps of brilliant colors. South would get a faint sweet taste - more like the watermelon flavor of the candy than any other she’d tasted, she figured, but not exactly one or the other - on her tongue when she spoke. That was it, though. She didn’t get the fizzing or the popping when they’d just met, and in all honesty South didn’t pay her much mind.

Maybe it was the meds, or even just the pain itself, but when she got stabbed in her side and Emily started treating her, things began to change. Her voice began to make her mouth tingle, and then crackle, and then it was just as if she’d downed an entire pouch of that old Earth candy in one go.

“Does this hurt?” Emily asked, pressing firmly on the bandaged wound a couple days later.

“No,” South said, because it didn’t; it just felt like her mouth did when Emily spoke.

Emily pressed harder. South breathed in sharply.

“Don’t lie to me,” she singsonged, “I always know.”

“You always do,” South conceded, grimacing mirthfully, because that was easier than explaining. She really didn’t have an explanation, for that matter - she’d never actually  _felt_  things as a result of her condition. Instead of letting it worry her, though, she just watched Emily’s face become ringed with tiny starbursts as the woman laughed. 


	5. Sheila/Tex - Tanking It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't you just hate it when people get too cozy with your girlfriend?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know... for all the awesomeness and relatability the women of PFL and Chorus present... I think I actually identify with and resemble Sheila the most. At least, personality-wise. (I promise I'm not actually a giant death tank.)
> 
> Sheila/Tex this time!!! Warnings for violence and blood mention.

_CRACK._

It was strange, seeing her girlfriend truly angry. At the best of times, she could be passive-aggressive, yes, but real  _fury_  was a rare sight. It was moments like this, Allison reflected as she watched her loved one headbutt the man that’d had the nerve to try sneaking up from behind, that Sheila truly earned her nickname as “The Tank”. Always strongly grounded, she was not one for acrobatics; she favored punches and grappling over even the best-delivered roundhouse kick.

_WHUMP._

The poor man on the receiving end of the headbutt fell to the ground, and Sheila was turning once again to her primary opponent. The key thing to remember was always that, whereas Allison was one for an instant knock-out(she’d figured out through much experimentation that a quick punch to the jaw was the best option; it didn’t even have to be that hard, for most small fry she encountered), Sheila’s dry sort of humor showed in her fighting style. She would take it easy, let them think they might have a chance, and then deliver a deadly zinger.

_OOMPH._

“Come on, Sheila,” Tex said, finally deciding to intercede, “Don’t you think he’s paid enough already?”

Sheila was panting. Tex watched a bead of sweat creep down her reddened cheek before she smiled just the way she always did. “But of  _course_ , Allison!” she chirped, and socked the poor sap in the stomach before letting him drop.

As they fell into step together, Sheila commented, “Oh, but I do hope they will not notice the _blood_  on my dress.”

“I’d call it an improvement,” Tex replied, placing her arm over Sheila’s shoulders.

“My dear, you always know just what to say.”


	6. Kaikaina/Tex - Rulebreaker, Troublemaker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Believe it or not, there's a very distinct difference between "rulebreakers" and "troublemakers".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to post my Starlight entry for the week today,,, but it is not in the least bit proofread,,, and I figured this was coming late enough already,,, so I just decided to post one of my queued drabbles instead ^^; Also... sorry for my lack of knowledge in "cool-kid lingo", as I am merely a nerdy writer of pseudo-historical fiction and am terrible at keeping up with the times. That said, I purposely used some pretty out-of-date words.
> 
> Tex and Kaikaina this time!!!

“What are you doing out here, Kai?” Allison called up to her, letting amusement curl her lips into a smirk.

“Don’t be such a  _narc_ , Texy,” Kaikaina snickered, hanging casually upside-down by her knees on the tree branch. “You’re cutting class, too.”

“Sure,” Allison conceded, leaning back on the tree across from Kaikaina’s, “But, y’see, what I figure is when _I_ cut class, it’s because I want to. When  _you_ cut class, you’ve done something. I’m curious about what it is.”

“What if I just skipped out ‘cuz I wanted to suck face with somebody in a tree ? So _judgmental_ , Texerdoodle.”

As if on cue, Allison heard a loud screeching sound coming from the nearest classroom. Kaikaina, who had righted herself on the tree branch and now was lewdly straddling it, gave her a victorious grin.

“GET THAT THING AWAY FROM ME!” could be heard through the windows as Allison perched herself on Kaikaina’s branch, ignoring the shouts in favor of “sucking face” with her favorite troublemaker.


	7. Grey/Carolina - Saviour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Everything you've done will be for nothing.)  
> She ignores this thought and just keeps running.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This week's Starlight challenge prompt!! I decided to put this one in Niner AU, because I've been thinking about what I'd like to do for the next multichapter. This scene may end up being quoted word-for-word(though probably not, because I had a TON of trouble dropping into historical voice here) if I choose to write Carolina's story next(Side note - the other option I'm considering is Kaikaina), so consider this a preview!!
> 
> Greylina this time, also warnings for almost-death and mentions of period-typical attitudes.

The sledge felt heavier with each passing moment, and although she knew it was the fault of the runners being clogged with snow as much as her own fatigue she hated herself for letting it drag her down, letting herself get slower when it was so very necessary that she find warmth and safety for her quarry.

“How are you two doing, back there?” she called to them, as she had done periodically for the last several hours.

“I’m alright,” Eda replied.

“How about you, Iago?” Charlotte asked. She was feeling a little optimistic on his part - although he’d been coughing terribly the entire night prior and through much of the current day, she hadn’t heard so much as a peep for about an hour.

He didn’t reply, or perhaps she didn’t hear. She stopped dragging the sledge, wondering if the noise it was making was drowning his voice out. “What was that, Iago?”

Still nothing. She looked behind her and saw Eda’s wide eyes peeking out of the bundle she lay in with the boy. “Eda?” she asked, “How is Iago doing? Is he asleep?”

“Yes,” she said quietly, glancing nervously at her neighbor. “But he’s…”

She didn’t finish her sentence. Feeling her own heart sliding inexplicably downwards, Charlotte unraveled her cold-numbed, rope-burned hands from the lead and stepped around and back, towards Iago’s huddled form.

He was still. He was so still, even though next to him Eda was even now shivering with cold. Swallowing heavily, Charlotte leaned down to hear him breathe - the thin air was moving in and out of him, yes, but shallowly, shallowly.

“Iago,” she said to him, softly at first, “Iago. Wake up.”

He didn’t even twitch.

“Iago. Iago, Iago, wake up, Iago,” she let herself grow louder with every repetition of the boy’s name.

Eda was sniffling. It was cold, but she was also crying.

Charlotte ruffled his hair. She gave his cheeks a gentle slap. “Iago. Iago, wake up,  _please_. Wake up. Iago, no, please, wake up. Wake up, wake up, wake up wake up wakeupwakeup _wakeup_  -”

“Charlotte,” Eda said. It was a warning, and just in time, too, because next she might just have picked him up and shaken him.

Instead, some gentle presence arrived at her side, not quite pushing her out of the way, not just yet, and placed a hand over hers. It was warm. It was so warm, burning hot, against her abused skin. Her hand was still on little Iago’s cheek, and she hoped the warmth would soak into him as well as her.

“I kin take him off your hands,” the girl - woman? - said, soothingly but also brightly, like color invading her cold white landscape. Her accent was familiar, as familiar as Charlotte's own. “Let’s go to my house, hey? Let’s get you three all warm. Y'all kin stay as long as you’re able.”

Charlotte didn’t leave Iago’s side, didn’t remove her hand from his face. “I just wanted him to be safe,” she commented quietly, remembering the asylum and this same boy standing bone-thin in front of her. Was that why he’d taken ill, and not Eda? Because he was still so malnourished?

“He’ll be safe,” the woman promised, lifting Charlotte’s hand and slipping her own around Iago. “You’ll all be safe, understand? As long as you need to be.” She picked him up, and she was surprisingly strong.

Charlotte sat there in the snow, watching her for a moment, weighing her options. It was Eda, of all things, that awoke her from her daze, because she was already standing and taking Charlotte’s hand in hers.

“I’m Eda,” the girl told the woman. “This is my friend, Charlotte, and that’s Iago. Normally they’re not so quiet like this, I think they might be tired.”

“Well, it’s no wonder!” the woman exclaimed, grinning kindly down at Eda through the snow. “I’m Emily, Eda. I’m a doctor, and I promise I’ll help yer friends feel better right quick.”

* * *

 

Emily had put Eda to bed almost immediately, and then spent a long while in the room she’d placed Iago into. She’d pointed out another room that Charlotte could sleep in, should she choose to, but despite everything Charlotte felt painfully, undeniably awake.

“Don’t you go wearing a rut into my floor, now!” Emily chirped, emerging at long last from Iago’s room.

“How is he?” Charlotte demanded automatically, stopping her pacing as per Emily’s request. “Will he survive it?”

“He most certainly will! I do suggest you rest up for a few weeks, though, and make sure he’s proper fed. Tiny fellows like that survive the cold better with some fat on ‘em.”

“We can’t stop moving that long,” Charlotte snapped, sitting herself in one of Emily’s dining chairs in aggravation.

“Whyever not?”

“We won’t be safe. I need them to be safe.”

Emily sat down in front of her. “Are you being chased?” she asked, voice still light, genuinely curious.

“Iago and I may be. Eda’s race is also an issue.”

“And why is that?”

“I helped her escape a lynching,” Charlotte explained, suddenly too tired to think of a way out of telling Emily the story. “They targeted her family because her father was white. It’s easy to tell, because of her eyes.”

“They’re blue,” Emily said in agreement.

“So, you understand. I have to keep them safe. I’ve worked  _so hard_  to keep them safe. If you keep me here, people might find us.”

“Why would you and Iago be in danger, again?”

“We escaped a mental institution in South Carolina.”

For the first time, a deeply sober look took over Emily’s features. Charlotte, despite her best efforts, took notice.

She quirked an eyebrow upward. “Is something the matter?”

“I was meant to attend one of those,” Emily confessed.

“An asylum?”

“Yes.”

“What saved you?”

“I ran away,” Emily told her. She was bright again, but something was hollow about her words when she continued, “And I guess I was useful. They hired Mr. Recovery to git me back. But I just went n’ ran away again.” She gestured around her, at her surroundings. “And now, here I am!”

There was something that stung in how easily she told it. Charlotte searched for something to say, but she just ended up standing up again and waiting there, awkwardly.

“I kin keep y’all safe here, I promise,” Emily told her.

“I just want them safe,” Charlotte echoed. “I’ve worked so hard to keep them  _safe_.”

“I can keep them safe! And you, too, Charlotte. You can be safe.”

“It feels like I’ll never be able to,” Charlotte murmured. Emily stood, and Charlotte was tall, but Emily was just that little bit taller. That stinging thing from earlier returned, like a stick was stuck between her ribs and somebody had jerked it.

Emily was vulnerable, right? So it was like her siblings, or Eda and Iago. But she was tall, too, and protective, like Allison or her mother or May. But she was silly and peppy and cheerful, like everyone at some point when their lives intersected with Charlotte. With each passing moment, Charlotte jumped from role to role to role - and then Emily did something.

She kissed her, careful but full of electricity like Emily.

Oh, Charlotte thought, so that’s what I am right now. And she wrapped a hand around the back of Emily’s head and returned the kiss - forceful but loving, like herself.


	8. Jensen/"Volleyball" & Kimball/Carolina - New Music

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I thought I knew what love was, but these lovers play new music.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Curse you, Ragtime Anon, for putting the idea of a Ragtime crossover into my head and then disappearing off the face of the Earth so that I can't even give you credit for the idea. Where did you come from?? Where did you go??
> 
> Ahem... Anyway. Yes, Ragtime crossover inspired by the song New Music from the musical Ragtime, which is literally my favorite show and pretty much my inspiration for anything in historical voice. I might end up doing a full-on Ragtime crossover eventually, so in that case I must warn you that the casting may very well change. In the meantime, this thing is Katie Jensen/"Volleyball" with hints of Kimbalina, warning for more period-typical attitudes. (P.S. Second week of Femslash February!!! LETS GO)

The delicate notes pouring from beneath the girl’s fingertips was, by all means, nothing extraordinary. Anyone could sit themselves down and plunk it out if they had some knowledge of music and piano keys.

Yet, as Vanessa watched, she realized that was what made it truly special; the message was so simple, yes, but so sincere, and despite everything so new. She listened and observed the girl, who had only introduced herself as “a piano player, and Miss Katie’s friend”, delicately tapping out the song, and knew without having to be told that it was indeed a song of love.

Could her husband ever have invented such a melody, even had he been a musician? She glanced over at him, at Donald, newly shaven after his year in the arctic, and saw that an expression both of realization and of resignation had overtaken his features. Did he know, too, that the two of them had never shared as true a connection as these two girls did? Or was he simply mourning how their household had changed during his absence, with these weekly visits from one lower-class, African-American lesbian to the lower-class, African-American lesbian that lived in their attic with her child of rape? Was he wishing as hard as she that Miss Katie would hear the message being spelled out with every note and at least give this poor girl a second look, or did he simply wish for these strangers to leave his home?

He had to know, she thought to herself when she saw his shoulders rise and fall with a sigh. He had to know that their marriage, their love, was lacking in some way that the love between these girls was not. He had to know it.

She thought tenderly of that poor, dirty immigrant woman with the bright green eyes that she’d seen on the train platform, cradling her two children to herself even as Vanessa had allowed little John to wander towards their huddle and speak to them. She thought of how she’d pitied her, with how overbearing her love for her children had become after whatever abuse and neglect they’d been put through in the tenements of New York.

Had she ever experienced a love so genuine in her life?

As she asked herself the question, Miss Katie appeared at last at the top of the staircase, cradling the baby. The other girl - the piano player - didn’t notice her at first, and Vanessa found herself drawn forward. She mounted the steps and when she reached the landing where Miss Katie stood, frozen, she took the baby into her own arms.

At last, the piano player’s eye was caught. The moment she saw Miss Katie, she stopped playing, but somehow the music didn’t seem to go away - especially not when Miss Katie flew down the stairs into her arms and kissed her and cried.

Vanessa had always thought she’d known what love was. As she stood on the staircase and watched the two girls with their hearts and eyes and souls singing in harmony, she realized she could never have been more wrong.


	9. Tex/479er - Diner Niner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Working on Valentine's Day is the worst... Or is it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you really think I wouldn't make this pun motherfricker
> 
> Ahem... Anyway. This doesn't actually have anything to do with Niner AU, just me referencing a Tumblr post for ideas. Tex/479er, because that's actually my femslash OTP for this fandom and it's some kinda miracle I haven't written it yet. Also I love Niner madly, especially when I get to write her!! ^u^

“Sucks you have to work on Valentine’s Day, though,” South continued their conversation where they’d left off as she handed Niner the order for Table Twelve, “Especially when you’re not nearly as single as the rest of us.”

The waitress shrugged. “Well, it is what it is. She says she’ll be dropping by sometime tonight anyway. And it’s better your brother have off than me, if he’s got two people to disappoint and I’ve only got one.” She gave South a hapless smirk and another shrug as the other woman laughed.

“Well, if they decide someone can go home early, I’ll make sure to nominate you.”

“How very selfless of you, South.”

“What can I say? I get sentimental this time of year.”

“Oh, please, I know you’re still trying to get into my pants,” she gave one last barb before striding off to deliver food and take some more orders, South’s snickering sounding behind her as she went.

Moments later, however, Carolina swept past, stopping only to nab a couple dishes from “Niner”’s hands. “Tex is here,” she explained, raising an eyebrow, “I’ll take care of these, you can go ahead and chat with her for a bit.”

Momentarily stunned by this proposal, Niner glanced over Carolina’s shoulder - yep, Table Nine, like always - nodded her thanks, and said, “Table twelve for these ones,” before parting ways with the other waitress.

Tex was reading something on her iPhone as Niner approached, but she looked up when the footsteps became audible and smiled. “Fancy seeing you here,” she greeted, gesturing to the spot in front of her, “have a seat.”

Niner permitted her a chuckle. “I’m afraid that’s against the rules, Tex,” she replied, and leant on the edge of the table. “I reckon you’ll be having your usual?”

“Just coffee this time, actually.”

“Oh? You got a hot date waiting for you?”

“Just Netflix and my own tears.”

Niner laughed, harder this time. “I don’t think I can even imagine you sobbing over Netflix. Going for a ride sounds more your style.”

“You never know. I may just be shy about it.”

“What a kidder you are,” Niner indulged her, pressing a chaste kiss to her forehead. “Alright, I’ll get you your coffee, but then you get outta here. I’ve got business to attend to.”

“Roger that.”

She turned away then, aiming to walk back to the counter. She stopped abruptly when she saw what must have been the entirety of the kitchen staff behind it, watching her intently. At her look of confusion, they dispersed, but not so fast that South couldn’t give her a wink before heading back to the kitchen.

Sending a glance back at Tex, who raised her eyebrows expectantly, Niner shrugged off the behavior and continued on her way, stopping to take a couple orders before pouring Tex’s coffee and dropping it off(as well as enduring another kiss in the process). A few short minutes later, she felt a tap on her shoulder while she was waiting at the window for South to assemble the order.

“I’m heading out,” Tex explained, stopping to give her one more kiss, right on the mouth. “Have a good night, hon.”

“You too,” Niner replied, and turned back to her work, hearing the door slam shut behind her girlfriend as she did so.

“It’s pretty slow,” South told her through the window, not a split second later. “Let’s let Carolina handle tables, you clean up after departees.”

Niner frowned. “South, you’re going blind. We’re as busy as ever.”

“Just humor me and clean the fucking tables.”

“You’re all acting pretty -”

“Niner. Tables. Now.”

She held up her hands, as if in surrender, and went to nab the spray bottle and the rag. The first table she came to was, of course, Table Nine, and she observed that Tex had forgotten to drop her coffee mug and its saucer at the counter. That was unusual.

She lifted them both from the table, and then nearly dropped them.

Sitting underneath the saucer, she found a diamond engagement ring.

Tex had always said she wasn’t one for marriage, and if she was honest with herself Niner wasn’t either. But lately, she’d been thinking about it, and for this to show up now…

She looked up, and she saw Tex waiting outside by the car. She glanced back at the counter, where her coworkers had congregated once more.

“Ditch the apron, princess!” South shouted, and Niner did as she was told, dumped it on the booth she’d been about to clean, snatched up the ring and sprinted for the door.

It was lucky Tex was so strong, because her fiancee wasted no time in leaping into her arms right then and there.

 


	10. Grey/Kimball/Carolina - Cuddles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes the best medicine is a good laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am proud to announce that I am officially out of ideas. Please, if you have a prompt or pairing for me, do pay my askbox a visit(or comment on AO3) so I can keep up with posting a femslash drabble a day!!!
> 
> Grey/Carolina/Kimball today. :)

Carolina couldn’t help but think she probably didn’t make for a very good pillow. She shifted too much, and she was painfully conscious of every time she breathed too heavily or made a little noise in her throat and Kimball scowled or shifted or groaned in her sleep. That aside, she wasn’t soft, either - she was lean and muscular and full of angles all over, and for heaven’s sake nobody wanted a lean muscular full-of-angles pillow.

She wouldn’t move, though. Kimball had been so stressed and tired and sick-looking when she’d come in the door, it was clear she was on the verge of tears of frustration from all the negotiations and arguments that had transpired in the past few days. If she moved now, she might wake Kimball, and this was a nap the woman had needed for longer than she probably realized.

So she stayed where she was, trying to breathe quietly, until Doctor Grey came through the door, looking nearly as worn-out as Kimball had been. When she saw their cuddle pile, however, she stopped, allowing a truly disturbing expression to cross her face as something that was surely pure evil brewed in her mind.

“Emily,” Carolina warned, terrified for what may have been about to transpire, and the woman nodded sagely and approached. She looked for a minute as if she was just planning to settle down and join the cuddling session, and Carolina relaxed - just a moment too soon.

In one fluid motion, Grey lifted Kimball’s shirt and - “PBBBBBBTH” - blew a huge raspberry into it.

Kimball was up, looking around in shock and fear, panting, in a split second. “Where…” she began in confusion, and Carolina reached to rub her arm, to soothe her.

But Kimball’s gaze landed on Grey, and she seemed at once to relax but also to prepare herself for something. “You,” she resolved, squinting playfully.

And she grabbed a pillow and bashed Grey over the head with it, and Grey giggled and grabbed another one and reciprocated.

And Carolina watched, confused at first but then remembering how much fun it had been to play-fight with her companions after a particularly stressful day in Freelancer, and then she grinned, got to her knees, and pounced on them both.

 

 


	11. South/FILSS - Heaven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'd rather join you in Hell than let you go to Heaven alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awwrighty, I said this on yesterday's, too, but it bears repeating - I really could use some help with ideas for Femslash February, so if you have any prompts, please do send them my way because my mind is naturally a dark place and there is only so much fluff I can brew up before the sadfic takes over.
> 
> Anyway!! With that in mind, here is some South/FILSS sadfic. I guess this is an AU wherein FILSS is a battle AI, and she got implanted in South?? Who knows. Uhh, somebody dies here.

_He is looking for me, South._

I know.

_It would be in you and Agent North's best interest to surrender me peacefully._

“ _No_ ,” South growled, her breath ragged, only saying the word aloud for emphasis.

_Your brother’s recovery beacon will lure Agent Washington. He will be endangered as well if you do not offer me._

I’m not letting you go, Phyllis.

_Agent South, you have always prided yourself on your impeccable survival instinct. Surely that instinct must be telling you that it would be in your best interest to -_

“There’s a difference,” South hissed, finally forcing herself to her feet, “between what you call having ‘survival instinct’ and just being a  _bitch_. And between you and me?” There he was, the angle of his helmet showing he was looking straight at her. “I’m feeling pretty bitchy today."

He started charging, and so did she.

_You were never a bitch to me._

“Thanks for the memories, Philly,” South cackled, and up went the shield, just in time to enclose Maine and herself and the bullets.

And then her blood was everywhere.


	12. South/CT - Backs Against the Wall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You can always find comfort if you know where to look.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to AO3 user ItMakesSenseInContext for the prompt for today!! This was my interpretation on "Backs Against The Wall - South/C.T.". Thank you kindly for this prompt, and everybody please feel free to send more!! This one's got a suicide mention, although nobody actually dies.

Connie must have jumped a foot in the air when she heard the buzz. Startled, confused, she looked to her bedside table where her phone was, as it always seemed to in the worst moments, ringing.

Even from where she sat, she could see the contact name clearly; South, instead of Dana, because that’s what everyone called her anyway and she’d decided that she liked it better than her given name. Connie hesitated a moment, then picked it up.

“Hey,” she said, quietly because she didn’t want any of the others in the house to hear.

“Hey, you,” South said. She was clearly trying to mask it, but Connie heard a quaver in her voice.

“You okay?”

“That’s my line,” South retorted, and Connie heard her huff derisively.

She opted not to supply an answer. She figured that’s what South had been expecting, anyway.

South waited, but it had never been her strong suit and eventually she piped up, “Hey. I called for a reason.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Connie heard a sort of sigh from the other line, and a little thump. South was probably leaning against the wall in that way she did, tapping her head on it like she also did. The thought of it seemed to soothe her. “You know the Turnabout dance is coming up, right?”

“Mhmm,” Connie mumbled.

“I was thinking,” South began, and Connie could hear her voice shaking like she’d never heard it do before. “I was thinking, it’d be a pretty great ‘fuck you’ to your parents and friends and stuff if we went together.”

Connie didn’t speak for a moment. She looked towards her notebook, where she’d been drafting suicide notes for the half-hour prior to South’s call. Even as the tears trickled down her face, she felt herself smile for what seemed like the first time in years. She began to giggle, or maybe sob.

“Connie?” South asked, and she could hear the confusion in her voice.

“Yes,” she gushed, finally, and kicked the notebook across the room, “Yes, South, yes, I’d love to go, I want to go so bad. Please go to the dance with me.”

She knew that South had to be smiling - more than likely with some dose of relief in it - as she said, “Well, then. See you there, fuckface.”


	13. Grey/Kaikaina - Rainy Day Rundown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Augh sorry for not posting these!! I was at AMKE this weekend and overestimated my ability to post ^^; To make up for it, I'll do double posts today and tomorrow(since I've already got the next four written up anyway). 
> 
> The all-powerful Femslash Pairing Generator gave me Kaikaina Grif/Emily Grey, so here's what I came up with!!

The best part of a rainy day was the puddles; that’s what Emily had always told herself and anyone else who would listen. It would always shock her mother when she was still willing to walk to school when it was pouring rain, and it would shock her teachers and peers even more when the class genius showed up, not only late, but with her mascara running down her face in purplish-black streams and a winning smile plastered on her ruined lips.

When she was inevitably sent in to the attendance office to sign in, however, Emily found she wasn’t the only one who always came in late on a rainy day.

“And could you repeat your excuse to me, please?” Mr. Church asked tiredly as Emily entered, and she was confused until she heard the familiar reply.

“Well, you know the total _lake_  the yard turns into when it rains?” Kaikaina answered, grinning just like Emily. Her long hair was dripping into the carpet and her blouse had gone see-through.

“And you _jumped in it?_ ”

“It was calling to me, dude!”

Emily giggled, and Kaikaina turned to give her a wink.

The fact that they’d been splashing  _each other_  in that “lake” was a factor they were both willing to omit.


	14. Kimball/Carolina - Leading the Pack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to AO3 user ItMakesSenseInContext once again for today's prompt, which was KimbaLina with "Leading the Pack"! As always, requests and prompts for Femslash February are still both open and heartily welcomed!!
> 
> P.S. I totally didn't write this while thinking about my summer job at the Nature Center...

If she was perfectly honest with herself, Vanessa hadn’t thought that Caroline would be much for helping out at the Nature Center for summer classes; she’d been quite surprised when Caroline had volunteered for the position after Vanessa had described her own. After all, she was pretty aggressive, wasn’t she, and she could be disdainful of those she judged as lesser than herself(Caroline’s words, not her own - as sharp as she was, she was also thoroughly aware of her own faults).

But now, as she play-wrestled with little Michael, Caroline was wearing the biggest grin Vanessa had ever seen on her face. And it was still there when Lavernius “stabbed” her with his play sword, and when Sarge made her help fix Luis’s “robot body”.

Vanessa asked her about it, and she just laughed and shrugged. “You know, I never thought I’d like these kids as much as I do, either.”

Vanessa found herself frowning. “But then, why did you volunteer?”

Caroline smiled, and for the first time there was an element of shyness to the gesture.

Maybe it was Vanessa’s own fault for starting the conversation in the location she did, but Caroline was perfectly willing to take the blame the next day when all the kids started kissing each other on the cheek and saying, “Miss Caroline did it first.”


	15. Kaikaina/Sheila - Traditions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kaikaina and Sheila have a Valentine's Day tradition.

There were two flour handprints, just the size of Kaikaina’s hands, on Sheila’s breasts, and a matching set on her ass. That was what had started it all.

The broken egg in Kaikaina’s hair was Sheila’s fault; after the flour incident, she’d retaliated by smashing the thing currently in her hands into the other girl’s hair.

And now, there was brown sugar smeared on Sheila’s cheek, and vanilla extract staining Kaikaina’s shirt, and in essence none of the ingredients were where they were supposed to be because they’d pushed them all aside so that they could make out atop the counter.

Every year, they had “singles awareness” cookie-making sessions on Valentine’s Day. It never went quite right, no, but never before had it gone quite so wrong as this year.


	16. 479er/Tex - Head in the Clouds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Forever in the sky, destined never to fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Admittedly, this is more a 479er story than a femslash one, but I was having a spot of trouble with this prompt so I'm just gonna let it be what it is. Implications of 479er/Tex and... dark things.

When she was small, she would lie down on the concrete of her driveway and open her eyes wide. She would look up at the gazillions of stars and when people tried to point out constellations or planets, she would shush them and just keep looking. She looked past the moon, didn’t even think about its phases or its light, and imagined swimming endlessly through the stars beyond it.

They bought her astrology books and a telescope, and they went unused. She asked instead for a bike, not one for kids, one with gears and brakes, and within weeks it had gone brown and peeled with dirt and exertion. She asked for one with a motor next, and as reserved as her parents were they saw no proper objection.

Even as she won race after race on her dirt bike, her eyes were always turned to the sky.

* * *

 

Her first girlfriend would prefer not to be named.

“I liked her ‘cuz she was so smart, y’know? With her mouth. She would always say these great snarky things, and I was always like, how do you do that? How the hell do you always have something to say? And yet she wasn’t some grumpy person, she was always all floaty and stuff.

“Okay, that didn’t come out right. I just don’t… You know how dark her eyes are? Like, they’re these black holes of doom, but really they’re not. She’s got sky in her eyes. They’re not black holes of doom, they’re starry nights. And her hair - like, with all the flyaways and things. It’s not messy that way, it’s… It’s windy, and free, and she likes it that way. So stop calling it messy. That’s just the way she likes it, it’s none of your business.”

* * *

 

When she flies a Pelican for the first time, she cries. But then she refuses to dock in until she gets every single passenger’s word that they’ll never tell about the tears.

* * *

 

“They’re starting to say that you sleep on this thing,” Tex tells her, a chuckle in her voice.

“They’re also starting to say that you live off motor oil. Oh, wait.”

“Is that an affirmative? Do you really?”

Niner gave her a look. “Absolutely. Steel harnesses and first-aid kits make for a wonderful bed.”

Tex let out another “hm” of laughter. “You do spend a lot of time in here, though.”

“Jealous?”

“I’m not saying that. But, you know, from one black-armored mechanical creation to another…”

This actually gets a laugh. It belies the true order of things, that Tex can joke about this so nonchalantly; she casually implies that she means anything more than the Pelican. If anything, she is endeared to Niner the same amount as the Pelican is. If she’s honest with herself, she knows she means less. And if she’s even more honest, she knows that even the Pelican and herself combined don’t mean so much to Niner as the vast expanse of space waiting outside the MoI.

She is reminded of this when they both exit the Pelican at last and she catches Niner gazing at the closed hangar door as if she can still see the stars and galaxies beyond it.

* * *

 

She is not meant for a desk job. She is Four-Seven-Niner, not Recovery Command. Perhaps she has a clever tongue, but she has never been one for other types of cleverness, and certainly not the ones involved in coordinating position and keeping the right secrets.

And yet here she is, and she’s talking in Agent Washington’s ear because since the accident it’s easier for him to listen to her than to a stranger. And now she’s instructing Agent South Dakota because she’s the only one the other woman will listen to without question, even taking her brother into account.

That being said, she nearly loses it when Agent North Dakota - and, more importantly, his AI - are lost. It is South’s job to make sure he remains intact, with Theta, at all times. And she zones out for eight straight hours after North’s beacon goes up, doesn’t even answer the radio to explain what happened.

She wants to scream and snark and bitch at them both.

She doesn’t want to be here anymore.

* * *

 

Somebody is calling Recovery Command. They aren’t getting an answer, but the continuous beeping of the monitor is trying her coworkers’ patience.

“Where the fuck is Recovery?” mutters one in particular. They glance around the side of their cubicle. They scratch their head and figure she went to the bathroom.

But she doesn’t come back. The signal peters out, the beeping stops, a message plays into her answering machine. She’s not back.

Later, they find that a Pelican has gone missing. They’re not sure just how it could’ve happened, because there weren’t any takeoffs planned from that particular outpost that day. Nobody puts forward any information.

Well, they say, that Pelican was low on fuel and oxygen anyway. It’ll turn up soon. She’ll be back.

She’s not back, and it’s weeks later.

Maybe it was a mistake.


	17. Kaikaina & Grif - Taking the Blame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He spends years pretending to forget, and sometimes he even fools himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, not so much femslash. Thanks to the Starlight prompt, it's not even narrated by a girl... but!! I was thinking once again about possibilities for future Niner AU fics(Tumblr masterlist), so I guess you can count this as a preview/spoilers for a potential Kaikaina-centered fic. That being said, this contains sexism, narration from Dexter Grif, and implications of rape.

It was hardest when she would show up unannounced. That’s how she always did it, wasn’t it? So it was always hard.

They’d parted ways because he couldn’t stop blaming himself for what had happened to her. Every time he looked at her, he couldn’t see his baby sister anymore - he saw what he had failed to protect. He looked at her, at the obscenely low cut on her dress and the constant look of suggestion on her face, and he wondered if it was his fault. It was. It had to be. All this was because he hadn’t been watching.

So he told her he didn’t want to tour the country, watching her fuck her way right through every peaceful, happy family she came across, and he went exactly where he figured she’d never expect to find him - in the South, in the heat and sand of the Open Range. He got himself an apprenticeship with a blacksmith, for some reason, and let himself stop being a brother. He stopped being much of anything.

He should have known she’d find him.

* * *

 

“Grif,” someone called to him, and he should’ve known the moment he saw that it wasn’t even noon yet. He only woke up early when he had to do something, and he never really thought of “doing things” as necessary if they didn’t have to do with his sister.

But one way or another, he got up on the second call of his name, listlessly made himself presentable and mounted the stairs to the shop.

“Grif!” squealed a voice, and automatically he stiffened. Kaikaina.

Simmons was looking at him, definitely. Sarge was probably scowling about the element Grif was bringing into his shop. The kid was also scowling, although nobody would ever truly know why. Donut wasn’t paying attention.

But his baby sister hugged him, and he gently hugged her back. He was always careful with her that way, since it had happened.

That didn’t mean she had to like it. She pulled back and made a face at him. “Are you not happy to see me, brother?” she probed.

He didn’t answer. Instead, he looked her up and down. “You’ve grown,” he noted, because it was the least insulting statement he could muster.

She laughed that snorting, not-at-all-ladylike laugh of hers. “Oh, Grif,” she cackled, “I know you can do better than that.”

He released a sigh. “I have more cloth in one of my boots than you have in that dress.”

“Better…”

“You look like a whore.”

“Go on.”

“If our family could see you right now…”

She laughed again, and he knew she was satisfied.

She stayed with them two days, and told him all that she’d seen. She told him about a woman and her brother.

Had she slept with both of them?

No, of course not. He wasn’t attracted to women.

But she’s dead now?

Grif, she said, it wasn’t my fault.

* * *

 

It was some wonder that she managed to find him again during his short stint on the trails, but it happened. One morning, she was just there, suddenly and without explanation, and the Reds had had to explain to the Blues and New Guy that she wasn’t hostile.

And Grif had had to watch his baby sister spew vulgarities and ride a horse and drink moonshine just as if she was one of them.

“How did you get here?” he asked in exasperation one day, “How did you find me?”

She shrugged. “Instinct, my brother,” she told him. It made him feel regret coil inside him, because if anyone should have had an instinct for finding and caring for the other it should’ve been him.

Kaikaina saw how she had disturbed him. “Hey, Grif,” she said, and she told him a new story. This time it was about a woman she’d made love to who had disappeared completely immediately afterward.

Like a ghost. She was apparently really important round these parts, too.

And she’s gone? You’re sure?

She shrugged. It’s not like I know anything about it.

* * *

 

The next time they met was, oddly enough, a complete coincidence. They’d been at Armonia’s public market, packing up to leave after a fruitful day, and Simmons was calling Grif’s name about something.

“Excuse me, did you say Grif?” she asked, mere moments later, and their eyes met.

She ran to hug him, same as always, and she ended up staying at the ranch for a week or two, but she didn’t tell him any stories until the day she shared a conversation with Wash.

She entered Grif and Simmons’ room later that evening, carrying a bottle, and invited her brother outside. Once they were both properly intoxicated, she told him all about the sex she’d had with a man, who was in the midst of an affair with another woman, who was married.

She’s dead now.

* * *

 

“Grif,” Kaikaina said, “There’s something I don’t understand.”

“Me, too,” he said.

“Care to share?”

“Why do you keep having sex with strangers, when so many bad things happen because you do it?”

Kaikaina sat up. He could feel her reproachful eyes on him.

“It’s not my fault.”

“But Kai -”

“I never killed any of those people, Grif.”

“But they died because you were there.”

Kaikaina stared at him a moment longer. Then she looked at the horizon.

“What I don’t understand,” she said, “is why there’s more shame in willingly making love to as many people as a woman wishes than there is in taking someone’s virginity against their will. Especially when she doesn’t even know how to say no.”

Something was clutching at Grif’s lungs.

“Grif?”

“Yes, sister?”

“Do you blame yourself for leaving me alone that day?”

“I do.”

“Then why do you keep doing it?”

He didn’t have an answer. She waited, but something in her posture told him she already knew that she was waiting for naught.

She didn’t weep, but he did, and she held him through it all.

She left the next day.


	18. Kimball/Carolina - Madness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What do you mean, take a break? You must be out of your mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you once again to AO3 user ItMakesSenseInContext for today's prompt; Madness, Kimball/Carolina. As of today, there's ten days left of Femslash February!!! It's never too late to contribute, guys!!!

“Hey, Carolina.”

She looked up at the unexpected voice to see Epsilon manifested at her side. “What? I’m in the middle of something, if you hadn’t noticed.”

“Uh, hell yeah, I noticed! And I happen to be doing most of the work, anyway.”

“Get to the point, Epsilon.”

“You’re always doing work, and Kimball’s always doing work. You never get time alone together.”

“And whose fault is that?”

“Dude, you could always just pull me! I get it, sometimes you need some space, but the thing is, you never even bother. Don’t you think you could, like, take her on vacation or something? Go somewhere nice and beachy? Chorus  _has_  to have some beaches somewhere.”

Carolina blinked slowly, as if the concept of a “vacation” was one she’d never heard before. If Epsilon had had the appropriate body parts, he would have slapped himself in the forehead.

“Look… if you can convince her to come with you, there’s a chance - are you ready for this? - there’s a chance you could see Kimball in a swimsuit.  _Vanessa Kimball_  in a  _bikini_ , Carolina!”

That got her attention, alright. Somewhere inside Epsilon, he could feel a high-five happening.

Mission success.


	19. South/Sister - Now You See Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ... and now you don't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a lil one today! uvu ItMakesSenseInContext is a dear.

“And what was her name, again?”

“I keep telling you, I don’t fucking know. She just told me to call her Sister.”

“And you didn’t find that suspect? Not at all?”

South glared at her brother over her shoulder. “North, I asked you to help me find the bitch who stole my wallet, not somehow make my hangover  _worse_.”


	20. Sheila/Tex - Into the Abyss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They are nothing without each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have I mentioned how very snazzy ItMakesSenseInContext is? Because they're pretty snazzy. Sheila and Tex this time!!
> 
> We're in the last week of Femslash February!!! It's not too late to do something, everybody!!!

No human body, no soul to speak of. By all means, to call her something worthy of this human invention called “love” should have been nonsense. She had no heart to love with, herself, and as such it would be ludicrous to claim she could have returned the favor anyway.

But Tex was nothing, either. Right? She wasn’t much of anything, herself. It would hardly be fair to say that she was “more” and Sheila was “less” just because she happened to possess a humanoid form. At the very least, Sheila was something original, something entirely her own; Tex as a consciousness was nothing more than some person’s memory of somebody else.

Maybe their sentiments were hollow, but they nonetheless delivered them into the blank spaces that might otherwise have been their hearts.


	21. Carolina/Niner - With the Band

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who knows? You might meet your idol before you even know how much you adore them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double post because this weekend was a mess. Anyway!!! This one's inspired in part by the prompts from this post and also from an experience I had at the age of twelve with Elaine, the drummer from what is still one of my favorite bands, Neon Trees, at Summerfest(Mind you, they weren't quite so popular back then!!). Literally, this experience is part of how I realized I was a lesbian, so I'm very glad to share it with you, even in this form. :)

Really, she’d never meant for it to happen. It just kind of did - and, after all, what was the point of outdoor music festivals if there wasn’t some chance for something amazing to happen? She was just in the right place at the right time.

Carolina didn’t actually know any of the bands they were seeing that night; York had invited her and she’d just kind of come along. There they were, though, in the half-hour space or so between one band going off and the main one of the night coming on, and she was the only one with money so she’d gone to get snacks for everyone else.

And then?

With an armload of sodas and nachos and the other various festival fixings, she got tossed out of the stream of the crowd just in time to crash head-first into somebody’s back.

“Oh, my god,” she gasped, feeling the cold slush of something running down her shirt-front, “Oh, god, Oh god I’m so sorry -”

To her surprise, she was greeted with laughter from the other person involved in the crash. She looked into the woman’s face, and noticed fleetingly that she was beautiful - in a feral, wild, heavily-made-up sort of fashion.

“Don’t sweat it,” the woman told her, glancing over her shoulder at the cheesy, crumby remains of Maine’s nachos. “I was about to go backstage and change, anyway.”

“Backstage?” Carolina ventured, mere moments before she finally put two and two together. “Oh, wait - are you in the band?”

“This one? Yeah,” the woman said, throwing a thumb over her shoulder to indicate the stage they’d be performing on. It was indeed the same one by which her friends were waiting. She cocked an eyebrow. “Are you gonna be watching?”

“Um, yeah. I’m not very… I don’t know your music that well, though. My friends dragged me along. Not that I don’t like what I’ve heard, though!” she rushed to amend, unsure why she was so nervous.

The woman laughed again. “Hey, it’s no big deal. Did you see the guys before us?”

“Yeah. I don’t know them, either, but they were amazing performers.”

“Do you think you could do something for me?”

“Huh?”

She winked. “Keep score. Give points for lighting, music, interaction with the audience, all that fun stuff. Then find me after the show and tell me which band was better. I’ve always been curious.”

Carolina’s heart swelled. Fourteen years old, and she’d been entrusted with something this important! “I’d love to.”

“Thanks, kiddo.” She turned, as if to leave, and then seemed to think better of it. “Hey,” she said, “what’s your name?”

“Uh, Carolina?”

“Nice. See you later, Carolina.”

She even got her name right. Most people didn’t do that. She felt her heart swelling again. “Absolutely!”

* * *

 

“Wait,” South cut her off, “You met a  _girl_? And she was in the band?”

“Yeah.”

If Carolina hadn’t known she could absolutely beat South in a fight, she might have been scared of that look on South’s face. “That was Niner,” the girl seethed.

“And?”

South reeled as if from a personal insult. “That’s who we’re here to see, dumbass!”

“South’s been all over her ever since I started listening to these guys,” North snickered from South’s other side.

“Excuse me? I  _introduced_  you to them, asshat.”

“Language, sister. And that’s wrong, I showed you the music video, remember?”

Carolina turned her attention from their bickering to York, who was sitting on her other side. “I don’t get the big deal,” she admitted, “She probably won’t even remember me.”

Just as he was opening his mouth to reply, the lights went out on the stage. The crowd began to cheer, and Carolina got lost in the roar of the music.

They were good. They easily beat out the band that’d come before them, in every category Niner had listed and more. Carolina could see the woman now, whaling on the drums with a huge grin on her face like she’d been born for it.

Nothing could’ve prepared Carolina for what came next, however.

About halfway through the concert, the lead singer, panting, sipping at a bottle of water, stepped to one side, holding out a hand to Niner. “If you don’t mind, I think our drummer has something to say.”

Still smiling, still sweating, still looking out at the audience, Niner spoke into her mike. “Hey, Carolina,” she said, and the girl could feel her heart drop into her stomach. South was saying something, York was saying something, even Maine and Wash were saying something, but her attention was rapt on Niner. “I hope you’re still keeping score.”

And then she counted in the next song and Carolina was screaming along with the rest of the fans in the audience.

The end of the concert came and went. She waited out the crowd with her friends, speaking eagerly about this and that as they watched the people go. Carolina had all but forgotten her promise when she heard someone approaching over the bleacher steps.

The entire band was there, Niner at the forefront, smirking levelly.

Her friends were thrown into chaos. South was sitting with her mouth hanging open, staring straight at Niner. Wash and Maine and Connie were all clinging to each other and jumping up and down, York was tugging his perfectly-coiffed hair in all different directions, and their chaperones, Florida and Wyoming, were exchanging a look of surprise. Even North had lost his cool, babbling unevenly as he scrambled for a pen, a t-shirt, the album he’d bought, anything for them to sign.

Even so, Carolina looked Niner straight in the eyes. She said, shakily, “You won. Easily. By a landslide.”

The woman grinned even wider, opened her arms, and engulfed Carolina in a hug.

Right then and there, a lifelong fan was born.


End file.
